


blood on your face

by fishlette



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Community: norsekink, Gen, sort of Thor-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishlette/pseuds/fishlette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You big disgrace. Oh Lazarus, were you so afraid?</p>
            </blockquote>





	blood on your face

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for [this prompt](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/12008.html?thread=27981032#t27981032%0A) on norsekink
> 
> Wasn't able to hit all the bonuses.

The third child is stillborn, like the others, dry as desert sand and _dead, dead, dead._ His skin is thick and heavy, pulled taut around his joints, ripping, splitting. There is blood bubbling in the cracks of his skin, rushing rivers in arid drought lands. His eyes are open, a thin sliver of lid keeping black marbles from rolling out of his cracked face. He is hideous.

He is Thor’s son.

..

The first time it happens they blame Loki, his magic and curses and poison. They arrest him, almost succeed in executing him, then Eir storms in all banging doors and billowing robes and _‘the only monster here is that abomination!’_

And she’s pointing at the crooked, folded babe.

“You dare-“

“I dare! You are fools.” She is calm, voice steady. The room cowers from her. “This is no curse,” Eir says. “This is the consequence of mortal blood.”

A moment of silence, then Loki laughs.

..

Thor hears the whispers first.

_‘Can you believe it? Our own crown prince…’ ‘I knew no good would come from that mortal…’ ‘They say it is the most revolting creature in all the nine…’_

It spreads from the chamber maids to the serving boys, up and down the streets of the citadel. The washer woman tells the fish seller by noon, and in the dirtiest back alleys, the poor laugh at the golden prince.

..

Jane is inconsolable, a raging madwoman who Thor does not recognise.

“They’re lying! They’re all lying!” She hisses, pacing, clenching and unclenching her fingers (talons? Claws? Thor thinks he can see them curve at the tips). It is not so hard to believe that Jane, _this_ Jane (hissing, spitting, _grieving),_ could birth monsters.

..

The second time is a mission, Jane’s mission to prove them wrong. She will show Asgard her worth; give them a healthy beautiful princeling. Except she doesn’t.

Their second child is as monstrous as the first and the whispers are no longer so quiet.

“My condolences,” the Vanir ambassador says to Thor one night. “I cannot imagine being in your place, fathering such…beings.”

Thor is escorted back his rooms by guards after throwing the ambassador through a door. The hall is bathed in an unbearable stench; his chambers are filthy now, the maids refuse to come and no one reprimands them. Jane is curled in bed, muttering under her breath. She doesn’t greet him, she doesn’t do anything anymore.

In this moment Thor hates her.

..

Amora comes to court with a message, a scroll for the Allfather wrapped in fur and leather.

“The words of Nornheim.”

A death sentence.

..

Thor pleads for her (limp little things that tug with weak hands), but they take Jane away and the moment her head rolls to the ground and her blood soaks the dirt, Thor feels relief.


End file.
